


Black and yellow

by Trenchcoatman



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Smut, Fluff, Plot, Romance, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 18:45:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11386179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trenchcoatman/pseuds/Trenchcoatman
Summary: An over enthusiastic british newcomer gets involved with everyone's favourite edge-lord. May contain trace drabbles of fluff I thought of when I was a bit high at a family reunion.Note to self: Catnip and alcohol do not go well together.





	1. Prologue

The girl found the streets of Tokyo in autumn beautiful, especially from this view. More so at this time of the day, where the evening began and dusk had settled in. She started up across a wall, feeling the cool air on the side of her face. Laughing, she flipped and twisted lithely, as if more fluid than solid, leaving trails of blue light behind her. Landing on the toes of her feet, she continued to run, streaming across a parapet to another, keeping her balance on the narrow ledge on the side of the building, a fifty story drop beside her.

She had just joined the organisation a week or two back, but had proven herself more than capable to hold out against her teammates. She was still fairly new, and getting to know everyone. Winston had invited her in the first place of course, knowing her dashed dreams of being a pilot. Now she was easing wading through each and every simulation, training her combat skills in possible scenarios. 

It was relaxing in its own little way. Running helped her clear her mind more than anything else. It took away the stress she carried, her confused thoughts. Just her, the feeling of the breeze on her face. She felt her subconscious thoughts fade away, as she ran. 

The tall building overshadowed the rest of the buildings in the business district, as if a parent watching over its little children bicker. Behind it, the bay, reflecting the light of the dying sun, quietly churned. It was a quiet evening, and would have been a peaceful one, had there not been someone trying to shoot her. 

She ducked back, twisting and rolling, just as a shot tore through the night. She saw the sniper rifle’s bullet as it flew through the air, an impossible feat for anyone else except her. The bullet tore into the concrete wall beside her as she rolled across the ledge. She laughed. That was pretty cool, even if she said so herself. She wondered if he would be impressed with her of he had seen her do that. Nah. He probably just turn away and continue brooding. She shook her head. She had to clear her thoughts, she had to focus. 

Her heart was throwing itself against the side of her chest. Running at over seventy kilometers an hour did that to most people who could achieve such speeds. If anything, it was more of excitement she was feeling. Laughing, she whipped out her pistol and shot in the sniper’s general direction. She knew it was useless at this range, but it was more for kicks than anything else. 

“Sixty seconds to match end!!” A metallic voice rang out over the battlefield, as she jumped and weaved over a balcony, running up a grand marble staircase that was made entirely of marble. Beside it, two gaunt stone statues loomed, one human, one something else from Japanese mythology.

It looked like something dark. Something he would like. He dressed in black all the time anyways. Actually, they were on different teams, so meeting him in this context would not be a good thing. Still, she half wanted to see him in action, even if it was against her. 

Wow. It looked like if anything, running was making the issue worse. 

“Lena!!” A deep voice barked into her microphone. Holy shit, it was Winston. She quickly wiped the sweat of her brow, and ran towards the direction of the control point, jumping over a nearby hedge. All thoughts were gone now, her entire mind focussed on her current predicament. 

“Where the hell are you!?” he growled as gunshots fired in the background. Someone screamed. “We need back up!! Now! We are going to have a talk about your objective awareness after this, you hear me?” 

“Yep yep, don't sweat it, Harambe.” Tracer adjusted her yellow goggles, grinning as she ran up another pair of marble steps, three at a time. Good lord, this place had a lot of marble steps. She quickly ducked as an arrow flew past her face, burying itself deep into the side of the wall. 

“Goddamnit.” Lena whipped out her gun and pumped several shots behind her, not even bothering to slow down or glance behind. Hanzo hissed in pain, hit by one of the bolts. He quickly dropped and rolled, another arrow notched. By the time he rolled back up, Tracer had already disappeared into the night. 

“Just get to the control point-” The connection broke off as Tracer turned off her headpiece. Honestly, it was pretty annoying, having to deal with Winston at times. Yeah, they had grown up together, but damn it, he really had no chill. Were all gorillas like that, or was it just him?

‘They definitely wouldn't be good with children.’ Tracer thought to herself, as she ran, flitting towards her destination as fast as she could. ‘If I have kids, I'll make sure I don't drop any of them into the gorilla pit at the zoo.’ 

Gorillas were black, right? And Reaper was black. She smiled, wondering why they never get along. Maybe their kid would fall into a gorilla’s enclosure and be raised by Winston. She quickly shook all thoughts of Reaper out of her head. 

She wants even sure how the initial attraction started. She was entirely new to the organisation, and hadn't even met any of this people in her life, apart from Winston. She knew Reaper existed, and kind of got hooked onto him. He probably didn't even notice or know her.

Goddamnit.

A steel hook flickered toward her and she ducked under it in an instant, laughing, the adrenalin rush overtaking all her stray thoughts. She was the elusive Tracer. She was too fast for any of these slowpokes. Grabbing on to the metal chain, she yelled with laughter as the fat man behind the hook pulled her towards him. 

“WOOO HOOO!!” she pulled the chain towards her at the last second, using the momentum from the hook to jump over Roadhog, who shot a barrel full of shrapnel into where she was going to be. The metal shards blew into the ground, tearing a crater. 

She landed on her feet, and rested a split second before weaving to her left, just as the fat man blew a hole in the ground near her. 

“Looks like you missed a spot!!” Lena laughed, slipping low as Roadhog whipped around and sliced at where she had been with his hook. The razor sharp blade flew over her head, slicing cleanly through the air. 

“Batter-swing!!” She laughed, as she jumped, spin kicking into Roadhog, who growled in pain, and was forced a step back, Tracer’s yellow boot stuck in his gut. She quickly ran up his giant belly, wrapping her legs around his neck before he had a chance to retaliate, throwing him off balance. 

“Here’s Johnny!!” she squealed, pulling out her pistol and opening fire into the obese man’s head. Blue beams of light spewed into Roadhog, and he roared, like a smacked bull, bucking and swaying. 

Oh hell. 

Tracer screamed a bit as he twisted and turned, trying to throw her off, each twist more violent than the last. “Hold still, love, this won't hurt a bit!!” She grinned, taking careful aim. 

A final shot blew out from her pistol, and the giant man stopped struggling, kneeling over and falling to the floor. He would wake up in his respawn room fourteen seconds later with a very bad headache, courtesy of Tracer. 

“Thirty seconds til match ends.” the metallic administrator calmly announced, as people screamed and shot at each other all across the map. “We hope you've enjoyed this interactive simulation, sponsored by B**zzard. Please keep all borrowed equipment back after use. Thank you.” 

Traced gulped. Holy hell, she took more time than she had to screw around with Roadhog. She hoped her team was doing fine. 

“Looks like blubber was not up to the job.” Lena jumped to her left instinctively, and rolled, whipping out her pistol at the source of the hoarse voice. Her heart skipped a beat. 

Reaper stood in front of her, in all his glorious blackness. His black coat seemed to cut into his broad chest, his white skull mask seemingly glowing under his hood. He didn't even have his shotgun drawn, casually standing there with his arms folded. 

Tracer gulped, hesitating. She was in a simulation, and they were on opposite teams. She had to pull the trigger. But still, all it seemed she could do was to stand there, as if crippled by her fear.

“Not gonna shoot me, kiddo?” Reaper chuckled from beneath his mask. “I heard you were good. I came here for a real fight. ” His eyes seemed to glow an eerie red beneath the black eye sockets of his mask. Lena shuddered, feeling her heart beating faster and faster. As much as she hated to admit it, fear was not one of the reasons why that was happening. 

“I don't have time for this.” she snapped, quickly shooting off into the night, heading towards the control point. She had twenty seconds. That should have been enough time to flank the other team from behind and eliminate the healer or support. 

“Your fight is right here.” Lena leaped back, flipping and landing on the balls of her feet as Reaper dissipated in a cloud of black vapour, twisting and turning and condensing in front of her, making her swear in shock.

Goddamnit. Play it cool Lena. 

“If you insist.”

Immediately she whipped out her pistols and started blowing away into the black hooded mercenary. She had never seen him fight before, since she was still new here, but she had heard about him. His reputation preceded him. 

Reaper jumped to the side, dodging the blue blasts of energy. Grabbing onto a nearby ledge, he swung himself up in one fluid motion. Now he had the high ground. Lena ducked back, as he opened fire, each burst from his shotguns aimed to kill. She hissed, rolling and weaving, as the mercenary fired, over and over. Holes tore into the floor and walls, as she threw herself down, trying to find an opening. She barely managed to make it behind her cover, a cement wall, in one piece. 

This wasn't going well. 

She grabbed her wrist, pressing a button on her watch. Time to step up the game. The electricity flew into her chest, sending an indescribable feeling coursing through her. She was now suddenly everywhere at once, yet nowhere. Here and now, but also in the past and future. It felt like a invisible line was attached to her navel and jerking her forward. 

Then she disappeared.

She appeared in front of Reaper, who immediately dropped his shotguns and ducked down, as Tracer blew a hole in the wall where his head was. He grabbed her arm and twisted, forcing the pistol out of her hand. She cried out in pain, swinging a punch at the masked mercenary, who blocked it, letting her fist crunch against his hard forearm. 

Immediately he pounced on the opportunity, grabbing her other hand under his armpit,preventing her from making enough space to get off a shot, while kicking the pistol away from their scuffle. She grunted and tried to kick the back of his knee, but he shifted his leg, and the kick missed and bounced off harmlessly. A rabbit punch to the side of his face barely did any damage to the mercenary, who just growled.   
Now she was on her back foot, and Reaper was launching elbows into her sides, knocking the wind out of her. Black dots spotted her vision, and somewhere else, in a faraway tunnel, she saw her other pistol fall from her grasp. He was strong. And fast. Faster than her, even. Another strike to her solar plexus caused her to cough out, the wind knocked out of her. 

She cried out in pain, and although at the disadvantage, she continued to fight. She had his attention now. She couldn't let any opportunity to impress him slip. Running would only put her back in the grand scheme of things.   
Pulling her forearms up in a traditional boxer's stance, she reeled back, creating space, just as he lunged forward and kicked her in the stomach. Hard. She flew back, head over heels, landing hard on her tushy. Reaper whipped out his shotgun and swung it at her, and she only just managed to block it, the metal colliding harshly against her arms. 

She gasped in pain, her concentration waning for a moment, which was when he smacked her in the ears. A ringing sound ran through her head, ruining her sense of balance. She fell to the floor, on her knees, gasping, and Reaper kicked her in the head, his black boot colliding with the side of her temple. 

OW.

She hit the ground hard, and rolled. Somewhere far above her, the announcer happily announced that the blue team won the simulation. She had a concussion, but she was fairly sure the red strap in her arm meant she was in the red team. Oh god. She was in so much shit when Winston got to her. The simulation ended, and the Overwatch organisation’s theme was played, congratulating both sides for their hard work today. 

“You are not completely pathetic. But your technique is lacking. Work on it.” A cold voice spoke to her, as she tried to hold her vomit down her throat. The world was spinning and every move seemed to make her nauseous. She lost control and choked, vomiting her insides out at a corner. Thank god she had short hair. If she had vomited in her hair because it was too long, she would have to spend a hour in the shower at least, just to feel clean again.

Putting his shotguns back into his holster, Reaper didn't even bother to help the winded newcomer up, leaving her to shake off a concussion and get to her feet by herself. 

“Thanks. Good game, Reaper.” Lena responded slowly, her world still spinning. She could taste the acid on her mouth, burning her lips. Thank god she had a concussion. She could at least talk to Reaper without stuttering. Reaper turned his back to her, not even making an effort to look interested in her. 

“Whatever, Lena.” He growled curtly, as he melted into black vapour and was blown away by the evening breeze, leaving Tracer all alone on the parapet. 

Lena grinned. She had a concussion, was bleeding from several cuts, and would definitely be bruised and battered in the morning (the simulation only healed serious or life threatening wounds.) and was probably going to get lectured by Winston about freaking Objective-awareness. But despite all these setbacks, she grinned drunkenly. 

He knew her name.


	2. Chapter 2

“Ow.” I winced, as the blond woman in front of me rubbed some antiseptic on the cut. The antiseptic was green and smelled an awful lot like freshly cut grass. Not that I minded, but it did sting a bit. It had been half an hour since I was beaten down by Reaper. The adrenalin had left my circulatory system, and I was now fully aware of how much I ached and stung all over. My ribs had several bruises running down the side, courtesy of his elbow. My right temple and arm were cut up pretty badly. Nothing too serious, thanks to the technology level these days. In a few minutes, all the wounds except the bruises would heal without a trace. 

“I'm sorry, dear.” Mercy sighed as she began to apply the antiseptic. “This vill sting a bit.” Her voice was light, with a bit if a Germanic accent to it. Tall, slim, with an overly magnificent bust. It was hard to imagine she was over thirty. 

“Also, this happened, when you..?” She asked, gently taking out a leaf from her cabinet. “Chew this. It's a pain killer.” I obediently opened my mouth and she popped the red leaf in. In a few seconds, my entire body felt numb, as if I was experiencing pins and needles. 

She took out a fine needle from a drawer, and began to sew the cut on my arm. I watched the needle go through my skin around the wound over an and over again, in a rhythmic pattern. Even though I felt no pain, I winced, the sensation still uncomfortable. 

“I , uh..” I hesitated. Mercy was like a nanny to me, always healing my cuts and bruises. “Kind of.. fell down some steps.” 

“Fell down.. steps?” She asked skeptically, typing on a open computer her report analysis. Her desk was a mess. Papers and files all were strewn over each other, some piled high in places. Her slender fingers chattered on the keyboard. I felt a bit guilty, lying to her, and quickly averted my gaze, looking around the rooms awkwardly. Besides the messy desk, it seemed everywhere else was neat and tidy, her diplomas and certificates hung up nicely on plaques on the wall behind her table. She seemed to have showered, her blond hair smelling like lavender and vanilla. Her eyes seemed to be brighter, her hair more sleek and shiny than usual. She was wearing some makeup. Was she having dinner outside?

“Are you going out later?” I asked, as she continued to type, undistracted. Usually we got a few hours of free time after trainings in the evening, to horse around, eat dinner and use the facilities in the various complexes.

“Mm?” She asked casually, looking up. “Oh, uh, no. I'm actually planning to stay in my room for a while. Have to get some work finished by tomorrow for Gilmore.” she calmly said, as she typed. She looked up from her keyboard. “Oh, ok.” I replied politely, gently fiddling through some medical notes she had on her table. Looking at the outline of the human body, I was stumped. I did biology a while back, but I couldn't tell all the complex diagrams apart. 

“Did the pair of marble steps you tripped down by any chance, wear a skull mask and a black coat with a hood?” She said, closing her MacBook. I froze. 

“You are not too mad, are you?” I quickly asked, as she sighed and walked over to her cabinet, taking out a bottle of mineral water. Cracking it opened, she passed the bottle to me, while she reached for a bottle of gin under her table. 

“No.” She admitted, as she opened the gin, and filled a glass cup she had taken out. I kept quiet about how she took out two glasses, but she only filled one up. 

“Reaper enjoys a good fight. He pretty much has smacked around everyone here. He's not a bully. He's just… Reaper.” Mercy finally sighed, sipping the gin straight. “He's not a bad person, contrary to what a lot of the people here and in the public think of him.” She finished lightly. “Although granted, dressing entirely in black and looking like a edge-lord does leave a bad impression.” 

“What do you think of him?” I asked, a bit too quickly, impatient for an answer. Mercy’s blue eyes pierced into my hazel ones, staring deep into me, as if trying to perform an analysis on me. 

“I think he is a good soldier.” She finally said. “Especially on the art of espionage and stealth reconnaissance.” She hesitated, before finishing. “Any more is beyond my privilege to say. I try not to have any opinions about my patients, Lena. It's very unprofessional to mix work with one’s personal life. ”

“Oh. Ok.” I responded, trying not to sound disappointed. 

“Why are you so curious about him?” Mercy looked at me, and I blushed under her intense gaze. Her blue eyes locked onto me, scanning and analysing my every action. 

“Uh.. no reason. Just curious.” She raised her eyebrow at my lame answer, but didn't protest or poke further. 

“Well, if you have any enquiries, I recommend talking to Winston about it. He has been in this organisation for a while. He would be able to tell you more.” Mercy smiled, sipping her gin. 

“After he roasted me about objective awareness just now?” I laughed, standing up, ready to take my leave. “I think it's better if I don't speak to him until tomorrow morning. He's quite annoyed and salty about losing.” I finished my water and threw the bottle into trash bin near her table. 

“Thanks, doc.” I smiled getting out of the seat. “Sorry for disturbing.”

“No worries, Lena.” Mercy smiled at me, as I headed to the door. “Don't forget to apply the cream to your bruises. Also, don't say that. It's always nice having you around.” She turned her attention to the bottle of gin, filling both cups. 

“Auf wiedersehen.” 

“Good night, love.”

As I headed out of the door, I pondered to myself. I had to figure out a way to push and get more information about him. Mercy was acting professional, but she knew something about him, something that she wasn't telling me-

I bumped into a tall figure, my head thumping into her voluptuous chest. “Sorry about that.” I quickly apologized, flushing. I had been so distracted that I had walked into another woman heading towards Mercy’s office. 

The woman had lightly tan skin, a caramel colour, along with biceps that would put most men to shame. She was a forehead taller than me, and had an air of confidence to her, her black bangs around her face like curtains. I recognized her as the head-of-security. Her name was Pharah, I think? 

She looked more casual and flattering now that she had changed out of her suit of armor and into a tight red dress that seemed a little too short in some places, showing off her expansive cleavage and her toned thighs. 

“Oh, Lena.” She smiled guilty, as if she was the one who bumped into me. “Good to see you. Is Angela in?” 

“Uh, yeah.” I replied awkwardly, unused to seeing her in such attractive clothing. She always seemed to be the most formal one among the entire team, always dressed in her spotless uniform, with maybe the exception of Morrison. 

“Good. I have to...get her to check some.. medical budget.” She finished lamely, casually moving the bottle of red wine down her other side, away from me. “See you.”

“Good night.” I responded, quickly getting myself out of there before the situation got more awkward. The hallways were dim now that night had really set in, the cold moon shining through a window to my left. All around me, the lights of Tokyo twinkled and glittered.

I thought about going out, and exploring the streets by myself. I had nothing to do, anyways. The air was cool, the autumn winds beginning to set in. Maybe I would just take a shower, and hang with Amelie. Probably play a few rounds of Mortal **mbat with D.va. Anything to get my mind off him for a while. The feelings I felt when he had called me by my name had passed me by entirely, leaving me emptier than before. 

I sighed. A few weeks ago, I was completely satisfied with my life. This whole ordeal made my insides tremor a bit, making me feel hollow. I hadn't realised it before, or maybe chose purposefully to ignore it, but holy hell, I was lonely. I just filled it in by having fun. All around me, my friends found someone and moved on, leaving me behind. 

I frowned, walking towards the lift. The metal was stainless, polished to a gleam. Stepping in, I pressed the number seven on the dashboard. The lift began its upward ascent. 

I looked into the mirror, reluctantly staring at my own reflection. I was twenty three. Brown hair, spiky and short for a girl. I hadn't had a guy, or been in a relationship before, despite my age. I was unbelievably lonely, despite always being popular and having friends around me. 

The lift stopped and opened at level six, and two members of the staff walked in, laughing. The man was horsing around, poking the redheaded woman in the ribs. The girl pouted and laughed, smacking him on the shoulder. I quickly averted my eyes, feeling a deep twang of jealousy. The lift took an eternity to move up one floor. When the lift doors opened, I quickly excused myself, walking out at a fast but socially acceptable pace. 

It seemed no matter where I went, people were finding relationships. Everyone except me. I quickly walked to my room, and unlocked the door with my keycard. I needed a shower. A very hot one. My rented apartment was quite big, and it always had hot water. Perks of working in overwatch. 

“Hey, Lena.” A deep French accent greeted me as I stepped into my apartment. I sighed, stripping off my coat and hanging it on a hanger at the side of the wall.

“Hey love.” I smiled, walking into the room and spotting the not uncommon sight of Amelie lying on my couch, scrolling through social forums. Her apartment was just above mine, so she just usually climbed down to my apartment wherever she felt like it, ignoring my protests at first. After a while, I pretty much got used to it. “I told you not to climb through my balcony. If you want to enter, just use the door.” 

“Sorry. I got quite bored.” She rolled over, sitting up. “Winston didn't roast you too badly, I hope?” She smirked, scanning through a page, her finger flickering down the side of her screen. 

“Not too badly.” I conceded, slumping down on the sofa. 

“Sorry for shooting at you earlier.” She laughed, her dark purple hair no longer tied in a bun, long and silky now that it was let loose. Her skin was a tone of light, tinted purple, but it just made her look more beautiful. She was over thirty-five, but didn't look any older than I did.

I grinned, tired. Peeling off the top of my shirt, I dropped it into a hamper just outside my toilet door casually. Amelie would hang around for awhile more, before climbing into someone else's room through the balcony. D.va’s, probably. 

“Are you gonna hang out with Hana later?” I asked, closing the toilet shutters behind me. I looked in the mirror, inspecting my ribs. The bruises spread down my side in a line, purple, yellow, blue and black. I winced. Ouch. 

“Non.” Amelie laughed, from outside. “Ms. Hana is spending her time with a certain mechanical ninja tonight.” I tenderly pulled off the rest of my clothes, gently dropping them on the tiled floor of the bathroom. “I walked in on them yesterday. Thankfully I escaped before they saw me. People say the French are weird in bed, but we are nothing compared to those two, believe me.”

“Hana is with Genji?” I called out, dropping my orange goggles on the side of the sink. Flipping on the heater, I turned the tap on, letting hot water berate my bruised body. I let a groan of relief come out of my throat, digging as the hot water filled my senses. Oh my god, that felt so good. 

“You didn't know?” Amelie laughed from the living room. “A lot of people are sort of dating on the team.” I heard her turn off the light switch outside the living room. “I'm gonna find Lucio. He has some booze in his room. Ill try to nick some before he notices. See you.” 

“Bye.” I called out, stepping out if the shower cubicle, toweling myself dry. I sighed quietly, hearing the almost silent sound of a gas powered grappling hook being fired into the night. Now that Amelie had left, I felt lonelier than before. I could probably just find someone else to talk to if I wanted to, someone else to keep me company. But what was the point? Afterwards, the loneliness would come back to haunt me. It always did. And when it hit, it hit harder than before. 

I made sure Amelie had left, before I walked out of the shower, barely clothed. I felt like crawling up and crying, despite not having anything to cry about. Maybe that was the problem. I felt so lonely. I was like an empty bowl. Perfect, yet unsatisfied, hollow. 

I walked to the fridge. Opening it, I looked for a beer. I rarely drank, the beer was mostly for Amelie and occasional visitors who had popped by the first week I was here. They came less and less frequently now, I rarely needed to restock. The same amount of beer was still in the fridge, untouched. 

Cracking open a cold bottle, I slumped on the couch, turning on the television. Blaring white images flooded my vision and hearing, as if to assuage my feelings. The bitter malt numbed my tastes, making me feel emptier. My Netflix was screening an old Japanese show. “Norwegian wood” I believed it was called. I did an essay about it once in literature class. I remembered this scene. It was when he went up to the asylum his love interest was in, to try and convince her to come back to the city with him. I silently continued to watch the movie, surrounded by the darkness of the room. 

The main lead, his name was Toku or Tare, I couldn't remember, was leaning over the black haired girl, whose silky hair gently waved in the summer breeze. The girl smiled and looked into his eyes. I gulped unconsciously. 

They exchanged a few lines. I sat, reading the english subtitles at the bottom of the screen. In the end, the girl would commit suicide, if I remembered the book correctly. 

He gently kissed her on her lips, and I felt my face blushing involuntarily. I imagined Reaper standing over me, leaning closer and closer-

I quickly turned off the television, my insides more hollow than before. I thought about walking to my bedroom, but I felt too heavy to even move, my body held down by this crippling feeling I felt. I had a late day tomorrow. I sighed.

I didn't sleep well that night.


End file.
